Grey

A note to readers: This story is set in South Africa. There are Afrikaans phrases which I have translated and put in brackets thus (Sorry). Afrikaans is one of the official languages of South Africa and is the dominant language in the region I am describing.

For the spelling purists: Cederberg is an Afrikaans name and is correctly spelled. Translated it means Cedar Mountains.

The window opposite the double bed is filled with grey. Not shades of grey, just a dull, uniform grey. Early this morning the wind started bringing the cold and rain inland from the icy Atlantic until it was stopped by the Cederberg mountain range at which point it gave up, leaving the cold and grey behind like a discarded condom. Its been raining in a desultory manner ever since making hiking a non starter.

Yes I do have high tech water proofs and water proof boots, but I have that gear for when things go wrong and I get caught by bad weather. Now I do not get all tarted up in waterproof gear and then go out into the cold and wet for the fun of it. Twenty years ago my body would have insisted but now, thankfully it has seen the light and doesn't insist.

Twenty years ago I, and three friends had set out on a well known trail knowing a storm was coming, but confident we could make it to our usual rock shelter before the storm hit. We were all experienced hikers, young, fit and, in our foolish opinion, immortal. Not foolish enough however not to pack our wet weather clothing. We were confident that all would be well and the extra wet weather gear would not be necessary.

We arrived at the rock shelter as the rain started and were well settled in when another party arrived. Not a regular hiking party but a bunch of frothy, fluffy fashionistas who would nowadays have Instagram accounts with thousands of followers. They were on a hike to "try out the latest in hiking gear." All the latest materials and fabrics on display.

All but two of them arrived at the shelter and the storm was getting worse. After a brief consultation with Jean the leader of the new group, a strong, startlingly beautiful red headed woman, we decided that the fashionistas should stay in the shelter and the four of us would go back and find the strays.

We dug our wet weather gear out of our bags, kitted up and then headed out the storm admittedly a bit excited by the challenge.

The conditions were bad. Rain, heavy cloud and mist made the visibility next to zero. And it was cold.

A major problem was that the colour of choice for the fashionable hiking kit was black but brightened by splashes of grey. This is not easy to see in the dark which does possibly explain why Eric, leading our rescue team at the time fell over the first body. Actually body gives the wrong impression. What he fell over was a tiny, emaciated and semi conscious woman/child lying on her back in the stream. We picked her up and shook her into some sort of consciousness.

"Where is your boy friend?'

"Dunno."

"Further back?"

Silence.

"Cummon. Dammit! Talk to us. Where?" Dawid's patience wearing thin.

"Back there. "

She points the direction we came from.

Fuck. She is confused. Not surprising, she is barely conscious and time is rapidly running out for her with hypothermia setting in.

"Did you turn back?"

Dawid might have been short tempered but he was good at interrogation. He always made me feel a bit uncomfortable and I often wondered then if he would end up in some dark shadowy police force asking hard questions of people. In this case it turns out he asked the right question.

"No, and he was right behind me."

Dawid and I walk on, Eric and George start back to the shelter with the woman.

This time we see him before falling over him. He is just as skinny as the woman and appears to have been carrying both ruck sacks. He is not conscious so I swing him over my shoulders and carry him like a sheep. "Skaap dra" they called it in the army. Dawid takes up the ruck sacks. We trudge on back through the storm.

In those days I was extremely fit and strong, so carrying the tiny frame on my shoulders was not really an issue and we arrived about 10 minutes after Eric and George who had had to support the woman all the way back. The woman, Kitty was already wrapped in a space blanket next to the fire drinking hot coffee. I dumped the skinny guy on the ground and left him to the tender mercies of Eric and George. The fashionistas cowered in an untidy group around Kitty making inane cooing noises.

Despite my fitness, the walk carrying the guy on my shoulders had exhausted me so I stripped off down to my boxers and started to towel myself off. Wet weather gear isn't completely water proof and I had also sweated on the way back so I was covered in a slick layer of water and sweat. I closed my eyes and started to scrub my face enjoying the feeling of hard exercise, a rough towel and the warmth returning to my body.

"Let me do that for you," Female voice, soft, controlled. Jean the leader of the fashionista group. I did not resist but stood eyes closed, head thrown back.

Hands took the towel from me and started to rub me down. Firmly, sensuously the toweled hands moved slowly, firmly down my body.

"My, but you have a gorgeous body. Strong, fit and sculpted. Any red blooded woman would be aroused by you."

Thumbs tracing lines of fire down my belly, reach the elastic of my boxers and start pulling them down.

"Stop. Stop right there." I can feel my erection building.

"Why? Are you gay? Married? Committed relationship? Doesn't feel like your body is objecting. In fact, it seems most co-operative."

This followed by a sly chuckle.

My boxers are now down in my thighs and my cock is out and almost fully erect.

"No to any of those. Stop because I am not going to be able to restrain myself."

"So? My team know exactly what I am going to do and your buddies are not going to object. And anyway, I am very good and you are not going last very long so no one will really be sure."

She is now on her knees with my cock in her mouth. She is right though. She is very good and I cum in her mouth in what feels like seconds.

She stands up, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and my cock with my towel and then hands the towel back to me. She smiles faintly.

"You owe me an orgasm. You do know that don't you?"

Before I can answer she walks away. I scrape my boxers back up, wipe my legs down and hurriedly dress. I get some weird, envious looks from the guys, but not a single twinkle from her or any of the other fashionistas.

But back to the here and now. The next rain squall has arrived, the wind is blowing and I am going absolutely nowhere. The Wolfberg Cracks will remain on my to do list.

My wife stirs next to me, "More rain?"

"Yes."

"Good." She says and snuggles up closer to me.

I look at the mass off red hair on the pillow and decide that there is something we can do so I start gently caressing her lovely well known curves.

"What are you up to?"

"I do owe you an orgasm remember?"

I get a soft chuckle.

"Yes. You do. Well? Get in with it."

I have my head between her legs and she is murmuring gently when there is a banging on the chalet door.

I ignore the interruption.

The banging comes again followed by:

"Cummon! I know you are in there. I thought I saw you and that red head woman of your is unmistakable. And Dirk at reception confirmed it. Open up. We have a nice challenge for you."

Dawid's voice has not changed in twenty years and the mere sound of his voice causes me to lose interest in my beautiful and aroused Jean.

"Fuck off!" I shout in frustration. "I am busy!"

Dawid just laughs. There it would have ended if Dirk, the guy on Reception doesn't add.

"Please man. My son. He is lost up there. Mnr Malan says you are the best."

I look up at Sandy and see the answer there.

"Go," she says "Just come back safely."

The Cederberg Mountains are beautiful but harsh, jagged and dangerous. If a cold front comes through, the highest peaks get covered in snow and the wind seems to have an extra knife edge to it that cuts through warm clothing like a razor. Not a place to be out and about in weather like this. The boy could very easily die up there.

We drive up from Citrusdal toward Opiberg until we reach the Middleberg Pass. A twin cab SUV is parked on the side of the road. We pull up behind it and park. An oldish man gets out, followed by two teenagers who look terrified and miserable.

The farmer waves at them irritably.

"Jannie and Frik. Blerry left their buddy behind. Watte soort mens doen dit?"

(What sort of person does that?)

He is clearly not impressed by the teenagers.

"Jammer." he says to me, apologising "Karel du Plessis."

(Sorry)

He shakes our hands.

"You think you can find him? The mist is bad and likely to snow soon. If you don't find him soon come back. Better one dead than three.

"Don't worry about us." says Dawid "Onkruid vrek nie."

(Weeds don't die)

"That's not true. Weeds do die; especially in the Cederberg"

I look across at the two teenagers.

"How far back did you leave him?"

"Three kilometres."

"How do you know?"

"We walked for an hour before getting to the road and cell phone reception." Jannie trying to look confident.

"Good man."

I wasn't sure he was too accurate. An hour in terrible conditions is very possibly not 3 km.

"Any landmarks?"

"No, the mist was too thick."

"What happened before you left him?"

"He stopped.... Fell just before the top of a long upslope." Frikkie trying hard.

"That's useful. Anything else?"

Silence

"When he fell? You turned back to him?" Dawid doing interrogator impressions.

They nod.

"When you tried to help him up was the rain in your faces or at your back?"

Jannie indicates left hand side on to his face.

Without a word Dawid picks up his pack and heads off up the path and I follow in his footsteps. The rain drifting onto the left hand side of my face and we are facing the opposite way. We need a strong hair pin or a weird wind direction if Jannie is to believed.

The path rises hard under our feet and we are still climbing an hour later with the wind still to the left. Nothing is fitting.

"Another 30 minutes and we turn back," I say.

"No! We gotta find him."

Ominous. Dawid was always the calm, calculating one but this sounds like desperation. This is dangerous stuff.

"Wait! We are not going any further till you tell me everything."

"A waste of time. Lets go."

"No. You are damn well taking a chance with my life for reasons I don't understand."

Dawid stops, stands still for a moment staring at me.

"The kid isn't Dirk's kid. Dirk adopted him."

"Whose kid is he then?"

"Mine. And he found that out yesterday. It was bad enough him finding out that Dirk wasn't his father. He could have handled that. But finding out it was me destroyed him."

"Why? What is so terrible about you?"

"You didn't follow the Truth and Reconciliation Commission did you? You didn't listen to me confessing all? Murder, torture, crimes against humanity? Nothing. You missed my 10 minutes of glory? Were you living in a hole in the ground? When he heard the truth about me he said he would kill himself. We are looking for my son's body. So turn back. Leave me to go on looking."

He turns and starts to walk away.

"Stop,"

He stops reluctantly.

"You know these trails far better than I do but you are not thinking. We need a path on an upward slope facing the other direction. Back toward the road. Think for fuck sake! Stop panicking."

Dawid stares at me for a long time, turns a full circle as if sniffing the wind and then pushes past me going back the way we had just come. I follow, almost running to keep up. Suddenly he makes a sharp left turn and we start zig zagging down a steep slope. He is moving so fast he misses the irregular lump under a huge Wagon Tree Protea. Afraid to give false hope I investigate the lump under the tree. It's the boy, he is still breathing, but faintly. He is ice cold. I swing him up onto my shoulders and stagger across the broken veld to the path.

"Dawid!" I shout. "Come. I have him."

I turn back toward the road and safety. I don't let Dawid carry him. It is a shorter carry than when I carried the little model to safety twenty years ago, but he is far heavier and I am older so I struggle a bit, but I get him to the SUV with Dawid carrying the packs just like 20 years ago.

When the boy is safely in the Dirks truck, Dawid gets in beside him. I lean in through the window, looking directly at Dawid.

"I listened to you at the TRC. Your stories horrified me. I swore I would never talk to you ever again. I swore you were persona non grata in my life but you used Dirk to get me out to help you. So I will repeat what I said to you this morning. Fuck off and leave me alone."

Karel watches the vehicle disappear "Bad times. Now gone, thank God. I cannot understand why he did what he did." He shakes his head. "We are more forgiving in the platteland (rural areas) than you folk from the cities. Come let me take you back to town."